"Sebastian."
Her voice cut through the hallway.
Sharp.
Loud.
Uncontrolled.
Different.
He didn't stop.
Didn't turn.
Didn't slow.
His steps continued.
Measured.
Even.
But faster now.
Just enough to show he heard her.
Just enough to show he didn't care.
"Sebastian, I am speaking to you."
The control was cracking.
Volume rising.
Edges sharper.
Still he didn't turn.
Didn't answer.
Didn't acknowledge her.
The marble floor echoed under his shoes.
Each step louder than the last.
The hallway stretched ahead.
Long.
Cold.
Watching.
"You do not walk away from me."
That one followed him.
Closer.
More dangerous.
He reached the stairs.
Didn't hesitate.
Just kept going.
Up.
Step by step.
Each one steady.
Each one deliberate.
Behind him—
"…You think you've changed?"
Her voice again.
Carrying.
Cutting.
"You're still the same."
A beat.
"Still weak."
His jaw tightened.
Just slightly.
But he didn't stop.
Didn't turn.
Didn't give her what she wanted.
"…Running away," she continued.
Louder now.
"Like you always do."
Silence followed him up the stairs.
Heavy.
Pressing.
But she didn't follow.
Didn't need to.
Her voice had already reached him.
Already done what it was meant to do.
Sebastian reached the top.
Turned into the hallway.
Didn't look back.
Didn't check if she was watching.
He already knew she was.
He reached his door.
His hand paused on the handle.
Just for a second.
Then—
He opened it.
Stepped inside.
Closed it behind him.
Click.
The sound landed harder this time.
Sealing everything out.
Or trying to.
The room was silent.
Too silent.
The same as before.
Untouched.
Unchanged.
Wrong.
His shoulders dropped.
Barely noticeable.
But real.
A breath left him.
Slow.
Controlled.
Heavy.
His hand lifted unconsciously.
Hovering near his head.
Then stopped.
Lowered.
Gone.
Like it hadn't happened.
Like he hadn't reacted.
Like he hadn't stood there—
Bracing.
Waiting.
Expecting.
His jaw tightened.
He moved forward.
Steps quieter now.
Slower.
Until he reached the bed.
He didn't sit.
Didn't think.
He just let himself fall back.
Fully dressed.
Shoes still on.
The mattress dipped under him.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
He stared at the ceiling.
Blank.
Still.
Unmoving.
His breathing was steady.
But not calm.
Not relaxed.
Never relaxed.
The silence filled the room again.
But it wasn't empty.
It was loud.
Thick.
Closing in.
His eyes didn't move.
Didn't blink.
And then—
Fragments.
Uninvited.
Uncontrolled.
"You do not walk away from me."
Charlotte's voice.
Echoing.
Louder now.
Layered over something older.
"Stand straight."
A younger him.
Still.
Silent.
Hands at his sides.
"Look at you."
Cold.
Sharp.
Disgusted.
His chest tightened.
His fingers curled slightly against the fabric of his shirt.
Grounding.
Holding on.
Another flash.
A hand raised.
Closer.
Faster.
"Don't make me repeat myself."
His breathing shifted.
Just slightly.
Not enough to lose control.
But enough to feel it.
He exhaled slowly.
Forcing it out.
Pushing it down.
The memories faded.
But the weight stayed.
It always did.
Minutes passed.
Or maybe longer.
Time blurred.
The room didn't change.
The silence didn't lift.
And then—
His hand moved.
Slow.
Automatic.
Reaching into his pocket.
His phone.
He pulled it out.
Held it loosely at first.
The screen lit up.
Notifications.
Missed time.
Ignored things.
His eyes moved over them.
Unfocused.
Until they weren't.
Lillian.
His chest tightened again.
Different this time.
Softer.
Quieter.
But deeper.
He hadn't opened it.
Not at the hospital.
Not after.
He just… hadn't.
His thumb hovered over the screen.
Still.
Paused.
Like opening it would change something.
Like it would shift the weight in his chest.
The room felt different suddenly.
Less sharp.
Less suffocating.
But only slightly.
He swallowed.
Then tapped the screen.
The message opened.
Simple.
Uncomplicated.
Her.
Lillian:
Hey… I know you're probably busy.
His breathing slowed.
Just a fraction.
But I just wanted to check on you.
His grip on the phone tightened slightly.
Did you eat?
A quiet exhale left him.
Barely there.
And don't overwork yourself, okay?
His eyes softened.
Just slightly.
Even on the jet… I know you.
A faint shift in his chest.
Subtle.
Real.
I miss you.
Silence.
But not the same kind.
Not empty.
Not cold.
Something else.
Warmer.
Quieter.
His eyes stayed on the screen.
Didn't move.
Didn't blink.
His breathing steadied.
Gradually.
The tightness in his chest eased.
Just a little.
Enough to notice.
Enough to matter.
His thumb moved slightly.
Tracing the edge of the phone.
Unconscious.
Grounding.
He closed his eyes.
Just for a second.
And in that second—
Her voice replaced Charlotte's.
Soft.
Warm.
"…You're ridiculous."
A faint echo of her teasing.
"…Don't overwork yourself."
The memory settled over him.
Steadier.
Safer.
He opened his eyes again.
The message still there.
Still simple.
Still real.
He shifted slightly on the bed.
The fabric of his shirt pulling faintly.
His fingers moved.
Typing.
Stopping.
Deleting.
Typing again.
The words didn't come easily.
They never did.
Not when it mattered.
Not with her.
He stared at the screen.
Jaw tight.
Then typed again.
Slower.
More deliberate.
He paused.
Read it.
Once.
Twice.
His thumb hovered.
Then pressed send.
Sebastian:
I'm okay.
The message delivered.
Simple.
Too simple.
But real.
It was something.
More than nothing.
He stared at it for a second longer.
Then his hand dropped slightly.
The phone resting against his chest.
Warm.
Solid.
Grounding.
The room was still the same.
The walls hadn't changed.
The air was still heavy.
The silence still there.
But it didn't feel as suffocating anymore.
Not completely.
Not entirely.
His breathing steadied.
Slow.
Even.
His fingers tightened slightly around the phone.
Not letting go.
Not yet.
"…Lillian," he murmured quietly.
Barely audible.
But real.
And somewhere downstairs—
The echoes of Charlotte's voice were gone.
Faded.
Drowned out.
Not by silence.
But by something stronger.
Something softer.
Something he wasn't used to holding onto.
But didn't want to let go of.